Enough
by hannahmt
Summary: When they were sent on a mission to take out a Vietnamese cartel leader, no one on Bravo would have imagined that it would end the way it did. Rated M because of the adult themes.
1. Chapter 1

So, I'm really hoping that this goes well, seeing as this is my first fanfiction uploaded to this site. I've been writing for quite a while, but decided, after a ton of reading the works of others, that I would try my hand at this fandom. That being said, I also wanted to see what kind of reaction I would receive after its revealed just how much I whumped Clay in this fic.

I am going to leave a warning first. There are some major adult themes in this story, rape, some dark thoughts, and light swearing will all make an appearance. Proceed at your own risk.

All in all, happy reading!

Enough

Clay P.O.V.

Clay woke up groggy. His vision was hazy, and though he didn't know why, he knew that it couldn't be good. It had been so long since he had woken up this way, he almost didn't remember what it felt like. 'Clearly not long enough,' he thought. In his haste to find out what it was that woke him up, he almost didn't hear the lowered voice that he knew belonged to Jason Hayes.

"Don't move, kid. If you stay still, you have less of a chance of aggravating your injuries," Jason informed him. Though, the command to not move for fear of aggravating his injuries told him nothing about said injuries, or how he got them. Blinking to get some of the haziness to leave his sight, his eyes focused on Bravo's team leader. His face was dirty, which told Clay that something had happened that he didn't remember, or that he had not yet been made aware of, and everything about him appeared to be ruffled. Clothes, hair, hell, even his face bespoke disdainfully of whatever it was that had happened.

To say that Clay was confused would have been an understatement. The confusion only got worse when Trent moved into his line of sight, and started checking on his breathing. Exactly how much was he missing here?

Jason P.O.V.

Jason breathed a sigh of relief when Trent told them that Clay appeared to be breathing a little easier than he had been. He felt like hitting something. Their mission had blown up in their faces. Some of them, literally. Clay, Ray, and himself had been the only ones in the blast radius, but that didn't mean that the others weren't hit metaphorically. He looked over at Ray and sighed again, this time out of exhaustion. Trent had worked tirelessly to pull small pieces of shrapnel out of Ray's arm before things had gone to shit, but nobody knew whether or not that would be enough.

His bad mood grew when he looked around at his surroundings for what felt like the millionth time in only an hour. They were all locked in a small room, cold and damp walls feeling like they were going to close in on them. The bastards that had taken them all hostage after the ambush had even had the audacity to put Cerberus on a short chain and lock it to the wall. His thoughts were interrupted when the door to their tiny prison slammed open and the lights kicked on with blinding brightness. One of their attackers swaggered into the room, the one who appeared to be the head honcho, looking at all of them like he was appraising pieces of meat, followed by several minions. As his eyes landed on Clay he smiled. He reached behind him and snapped at the doorway. A younger woman walked in timidly. Jason looked her up and down, and decided that there wasn't much of a chance of her being a threat. Besides, speaking of her hair and eye color, she wasn't from around here. Her face appeared to be bruised, bloody split lip and a black eye. It took Jason a minute to realize that their attacker, he decided to call him 'Dipshit' until he knew something different, was talking, and that the girl was listening intently. When he stopped, Dipshit turned to Jason and smiled as the girl spoke up.

"He says that… um, he says that the pretty one is really the only one that he has a, uh, use for," she grimaced. "But, he, uh… says that if you wish to live, you will give up the pretty one, and the dog, and you will leave, never to come back." To Jason, she sounded young. Younger than she should be if she was here with this dick against her own will. Beside him, he registered Brock and Sonny's indignant cries, and also the sound of flesh hitting flesh as two of the minions struck them across their faces.

Jason growled, and launched to his feet faster than Trent could grab his arm and keep him on the ground. He swung a fist at Dipshit, though it was blocked, and before he knew what was going on, he was back on the ground, and staring up into the faces of a few of the minions who proceeded to give him a quite thorough beating. When they were done, Jason looked up at Dipshit, and spit blood from his mouth. "You can't have him, you can't have the dog, you can't have any of us. Go to Hell," he bit out. The satisfaction of a reaction to his comment had to wait for the girl to translate, but when he finally got one, it wasn't what he expected.

He expected Dipshit to be angry, probably order his minions to beat him up again, but instead, he smiled. It was malicious, holding malcontent and promises of things he could only begin to imagine, and utterly devastating to look at even if he would never outwardly reveal it. This wasn't going to end well, and in that moment, they all knew it. Dipshit said something to the girl without looking at her, and then barked something at one of the guards, still staring at Jason. The guard ran off, and the girl turned her attention to Jason.

"He says, um, just you wait. He also says that he doesn't , uh, need your permission, that he… that he already has you, and you will rot here," she related quietly. The guard came back in and shoved a hefty sized bag in the arms of the girl. Dipshit gave Jason one last smile, and then he turned and walked out the door, all of his guards following. Jason was more than confused when the girl didn't leave, and the guards bolted and locked the door with her still inside, holding a bag that was nearly half the size of her. She didn't even look all that alarmed. He would like to have stopped the query that slipped out, but he didn't.

"What did they leave you behind for?" he asked. It was then that the girl looked around at all of them, and realized with slight alarm that she was in a small room with six highly deadly men, and a killer dog.

"They, uh… they always leave me with anyone who's injured. To help, if it's needed. They want him alive, though, um, he'll probably… probably wish that he wasn't." She held up the big bag of supplies and pointed at Clay, placing it at his feet, hesitant to get close to any of them. She then sat down beside the injured blond. "They also want me… well, they want me to spy for them, but I, uh, they don't get much out of me." Jason baffled by everything that had just happened, didn't ask anything further. The next question actually came from Trent.

"Where are you from?" he asked her. Trent tried to keep his voice on the gentler side, knowing that most fully grown civilians were intimidated by them, and not really wanting to find out how a captive girl would react should they be anything less than careful with their words and tones.

The girl smirked reverently. "I'm from Wisconsin."

Trent P.O.V.

Trent smiled. If she was American, maybe something could shape up after all. There was minimal hope. No one knew what was planned, what might happen, if they could move out even if the chance arose. Nothing was set in stone. But hope was hope, and he would take whatever they could get.

"So, uh… Who even are you guys?" Her question set off alarm bells in Trent's head. While there was every chance that it could be an innocent question, her earlier statement made it hard for him to decide whether they should reveal anything or not. She seemed to read all of these things in his expression, because that was when she spoke again. "You don't need to tell me. I mean, um, obviously you don't have to do anything you don't want to. Well, um, Nahmen's men do have ways of making everybody talk, but… well, I think you get my gist," She rambled, laughing nervously at the end of her long explanation. Trent chuckled too. It was hard to believe that this girl from Wisconsin could be a spy, but he wasn't taking any chances yet.

"My name's Trent," he told her. It was dark in the room again, but he could see her smile even in the early morning pre-dawn.

"Oh! Well, um, I'm Jamie. Jamie River." She hesitantly reached her hand over Clay's now-quiet form -Trent figured he'd either passed out again or gone to sleep- with her hand extended towards him. It took Trent longer than he would ever admit to realize that Jamie wanted a handshake, and then he clasped her hand in his and shook it.

They lapsed into silence, and Trent took a moment to look over everyone on the team. Ray lay flat on his back against the far wall, Brock crumpled on the ground next to him. It was more than obvious that he had been rendered unconscious by the hit that he had taken, but in his defence, the guard that had hit him had fists the size of hams. Sonny fared a bit better, but only because he had been hit by a smaller minion. He was one of the two of them that they had decided posed enough of a threat to be chained down, probably because he had put up such a fight when they had been captured. Sonny's ankle, as well as Jason's were chained to the wall, much in the same way that Cerberus was. Speaking of Jason, he looked to be having a silent discussion with God. Not that he was far off from doing the same thing.

Hours passed by, though they felt like mere minutes, but eventually Brock woke up. Trent was staring off into space, wondering if he could pluck up the energy to find out what was in that bag. He needed to check on Ray again anyways. It was a small groan, followed by an uncharacteristic and muffled whimper that had Cerberus trying to pull the chain bolt out of the wall in order to get to his handler and best friend. It was the whimper that had Trent up and off the floor in an instant, not only because it was so unlike Brock, but also because he was likely to do some sort of damage to himself or someone else if he didn't know where he was. He dropped down to his knees beside his brother, steadying him by the shoulders to keep him on the ground.

"Hey, hey! Don't try to sit up right now. Just lay still." He refrained from using Brock's name because he was still unsure of how much he could trust Jamie, but if push came to shove he would do what he needed to do and deal with the consequences later on down the road. He registered her sitting down on Brock's other side and starting to trail light and nimble fingers around the side of his face that had been hit. Trent wanted to stop her until he saw the concentration on her face, and realized that she was looking for broken bones. While he didn't doubt that something had possibly been cracked, judging by the amount of bruising, he wouldn't have expected her to know what it meant. He was struck curious, and he didn't like not being in-the-know.

"Are you a nurse, or a medic, Jamie?" he questioned her. Jamie looked up at him with a startled expression, but she quickly slipped a small smile onto her face.  
"Guilty, I guess. Are you?" she returned. Trent nodded in answer to her question, turning his attention back to Brock who was slowly trying to writhe his way out of a sunbeam that was falling through a high window, and onto his face. Trent gently helped him move back against the wall, where Sonny was snoozing slightly. Brock's head rolled immediately onto the older man's shoulder, waking him up. Sonny looked around for a moment and his eyes landed on Jamie, who was now making an examination of the side of his jaw, and he jumped. "What the shit!" he yelped, throwing his hands up to his face.

Jamie quickly moved back, probably out of fear that he might attack her or something, and in this state Trent wouldn't put it past him. Everyone knew that you never woke a military man up like that. It was common knowledge. And with the fight that she had undoubtedly seen, or at least been told about, he didn't blame her. He moved his hands to Sonny's forearms, grabbing both in his hands before he started trying to go after her. Sonny looked up into his face, and the fight left him. "I'm here, we're all okay. Don't do anything stupid," he warned.

Sonny P.O.V.

'Trent's here, that means everythin's alright,' he thought, right as Trent confirmed it all out loud for him. He looked past Trent, and to the girl that he had nearly decked in the face just a moment ago, and realized that he didn't know who she was or why she was here. She sent him a timid smile and a hesitant wave, and the thought popped into his head that if she were there to hurt him, A) Trent wouldn't have let her, B) Trent wouldn't be stopping him from taking care of it, and C) even if she had managed to incapacitate Trent, and leave him asleep, she probably would've already done it. She hadn't. He turned his gaze on Trent for answers.

"This is Jamie. She's from Wisconsin." Was the short answer that came from the medic's mouth. Sonny rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"Didn't know you got a girlfriend in the short time we've been here, Trent. You've been busy," he joked tiredly. He saw Trent rolled his eyes, so Trent must have thought that he was at least alright enough to not be a worry right now. When Sonny watched Trent sit back on his haunches, his peripheral vision picked up on the fact that Jamie was coming closer again. His arms launched back into a defensive position of their own volition.  
"Whoa there, cowgirl. Arms' distance, capiche?" he ordered her. He put his arms down when she put hers up, palms towards him in a placating manner. She offered him a small, shy smile, one that he couldn't help but return, even if he would just claim it to be relief that she listened to him if anyone ever asked.

Once again, the room was quiet, and everyone was lost in their own worlds. Brock was snoozing on his shoulder, curled closer than usual. Sonny couldn't blame him, it was oddly cold in their tiny prison. Trent was on the other side of the room, at Jamie's insistence, looking through the bag to see if there could be anything in there that would help any of their teammates. Jamie herself was on her knees at Ray's side at Trent's insistence, checking to see whether or not a fever had cropped up during the time that they had been there. Jason was leaning with his back against the wall, hand buried in Cerberus' fur and fast asleep. At least, Sonny hoped he was asleep. If he wasn't, then that meant that there had likely been some damage done in the beating he took over defending Brock and himself. The hair missile was laying next to Jason, and as one of the only team members still awake, Cerb had his eyes steadfastly trained on his best friend and handler. Clay was still lying nearest to the door, where he had been dropped when they had been dragged into this hell-hole. He didn't really look any better, but at least to Sonny, he didn't look any worse.

He decided to try and get some sleep, knowing that he would need at least a little bit of energy if he was going to be able to beat this. They all would. They had been through the wringer, and they had only been there a few hours, tops. 'Keep me and my brothers safe,' was the thought he drifted off to, hoping that whoever was listening was available to help.

Jamie P.O.V.

The gargantuan SEALs scared her.

That was really the only way that she knew how to put it. One of them alone could squash her like a bug, and she was locked in a room with six of them. Plus, they had a dog that looked like it would tear her to shreds for looking at it wrong. While she knew that there was a huge chance that they probably didn't trust her, she was pretty sure she had formed enough of a tentative truce with the man by the name of Trent to call off the dog or one of the men off should things go to shit.

Of course, that's when they did. The lights turned on again, though they weren't quite as bright seeing as how they had gotten used to the sun from the window. The door banged open, and four armed guards walked in, followed by Nahmen. God, she hated that man. The things that she had been put through the past couple of years were barbaric, and she was one of the lucky ones. She knew what they were going to want now, even though she didn't think she could tell any of these men what it was. Even if he had been unconscious since he had been brought in, she could feel how much each of these men, hell, even the dog, loved this young blond. As a -some would say- supernaturally empathetic woman, she could feel loyalty coursing in their veins.

She turned her attention to Nahmen once again, and saw the way that he was eyeing the young man, and it disgusted her. She knew that look. She'd seen it too many times not to. Around the room, the sailors were starting to wake up or awake. The tall one that was chained down near the dog was instantly awake, as though he had known something was going to happen before the lights even came on. The other one that they had chained down, the angry one with the southern accent -he sounded like he was from Texas or Alabama, maybe North Carolina or Georgia. That was her best guess, she had never been down south- attempted to angle himself in front of the smaller, dark-haired man. The other one, the one who she was checking on before being so rudely interrupted, was… well, he didn't have a reaction, because he was still unconscious. That worried her, but it was not primary issue right now. The dog was on his feet, hackles raised and growling, which made her feel a little better about not being the only one that wanted to do that.

Nahmen snapped his fingers at her, and she discreetly rolled her eyes before standing up and coming to stand in front of him. "Bạn đã tìm thấy gì?(1)" he asked her. She looked up at him, pursing her lips and contemplating an answer.

"Họ sẽ không nói chuyện với tôi. họ thậm chí sẽ không cho tôi biết tên của họ,(2)" she replied. She grimaced at the frown that graced his face. She knew she would be in for it later, she only hoped that he would have had time to cool down by then.

Nahmen shoved her to the side, moving further into the room and stopping in front of the young unconscious man, that appeared to have his eyes open, so that would mean that he wasn't unconscious anymore. Dammit. Nahmen turned to two of the guards, and ordered them to pick up the blond one and bring him to his room. Jamie nearly shed a tear. If he was taking the young SEAL straight to his room, it meant that he had already gotten everything that he wanted to outfit him with. The other two guards in the room trained their guns on the SEALs, and she wasn't surprised to see, herself. Nahmen only liked her because she kept his playthings alive, even when she would rather let them die to avoid what they were going to be doing. He only kept her around because she spoke quite a few languages, and she was useful for translating. It made her want to be sick, knowing what this young man was going to be going through.

When the guards carrying the blond made their way out, Nahmen followed them, and the guards pointing the guns at them only stayed a moment longer before they followed, bolting the door and killing the lights when the left.

She had forgotten her internal vow to stay as far away as she could from the SEALs, because in the next moment, one of them was staring her in the face as his arm pressed her neck against the wall. "What did you say to him?" the tall one that had been chained down shouted in her face.  
She let out an honest to God squeal, thrashing against this brick wall of a man, trying to break his hold if only for a moment. She didn't know what to tell him so she told him what she told them all. The truth.

"I-I told him that… that I didn't have anything. He asked… asked what I found out and I told him that I… that none of you would tell me anything. I even told him you… you wouldn't speak to me! I was trying… trying my hardest to protect you. All of… all of you." It was all she could do to draw air into her lungs with this giant's forearm pressed against her trachea. Her words seemed to settle in, and he released her. She nearly ran to the other side of the room.

"We don't have any proof of that. You could have told him anything," he muttered to the room in general, even though she was pretty sure he was still talking to her.

"I'm sorry, okay? That you… that none of you believe me. But I'm telling you the truth. I swear it." It was all she could give them right now.

Jason rolled his eyes, and the subject turned back to the real problem. " Where did they take him?" He demanded.

There it was. The question that she had been dreading since she saw these people. 'Rip the band-aid off quick, James,' she thought to herself. "Nahmen likes his… well, I guess you could call them pets. If he finds someone he likes in a group of people that he captures, he… um, well, I guess the proper term for it would 'taking sex slaves'. He'll be brought back here in a couple hours, when Nahmen's done with him. I'll do what I can for him then."

The entire room looked horrified. Hell, even the dog looked like it was about to lose it's last meal. She didn't blame them. She knew that she had been blunt, but there wasn't really a way to sugarcoat it, not for people like these. These were soldiers, and they saw shit everyday. It didn't make this any easier.

"So… You're saying he's going to be raped?" Trent, the only one who's name she actually knew, asked quietly. She shook her head. They all looked so defeated, how was she supposed to fix this?

"I'm sorry. If there was a single thing in the world that I could have done to prevent it, I would've. As it stands, there's no real way to help him in time. Only deal with it when he comes back." She closed her eyes. She didn't want to look into the eyes of these men that were supposed to be some of the most badass people in the world, and see a bunch of lost kids staring back at her. Or course, they weren't kids, she knew how to take care of kids. She didn't read the updated edition of 'Care and Comfort of Your Navy SEALs'.

"I… what… do we…" Sonny stumbled over his words, something she didn't expect from him. He was brash, hot-headed, and she didn't even have to know the man to know that about him. She definitely suspected that it was a front, most of them were, but there were other possibilities.

"Will they kill him?" Brock asked suddenly. Head all over the room whipped around to him, sitting against the wall where he had been earlier, most likely awakened by the shouting. 'So he heard," Jamie thought. Another thought entered her mind, one that she didn't want to think about. She knew she would have to tell them anyways, regardless of personal feelings.

"No, Nahmen won't kill him. He uh, the blond, he's Nahmen's type. But, there is another thing that you should know." She made sure she had everyone's attention before continuing. "While Nahmen does have a preferred type, he won't hesitate to take any of you if he thinks you're young. I, um, well, obviously I don't know how old any of you are, but… uh, you should probably at least try to keep on his good side for a while. So that he, um, doesn't make any inquiries."

As that sunk in for the rest of the guys, Jamie made her way over to the furthest corner of the room and sat down in it, hoping to get some sleep before she had to work tirelessly with Blondie. In her mind, she smirked. 'Blondie, huh? Well, I reckon it fits.'

"Why did you tell him that you didn't know any of our names?" she heard Trent ask. She cracked one eye open to look at him.

"Because, I, um… I already told you that I don't spy. Besides, none of you have killed me yet, and that's what he's, well, that's what he's banking on, so you did me sort of a favor," she told them, realizing that almost every pair of eyes in the room were now on her.

"Wait a minute, who's name does she know?" Sonny asked. He looked around at everyone, knowing that they weren't supposed to use anything outside of their call signs for recognition.

"Mine. I told her, as an introduction," Trent said, voice only laced with a little bit of guilt. He stared and Sonny, letting him know that it wasn't something he was going to take any guff about.

"Great," Sonny muttered.

As the room began to settle again, people sitting back down to anxiously await the return of Blondie, Jamie wondered if this one would be the one that changed everything. She wondered if these SEALs could get her out of her personal hell. It had been years, and she wanted to go home. She drifted off lightly with the thought that things could be finally turning around for her.

Brock P.O.V.

His head hurt.

That was his waking thought. He didn't know why, mostly because he couldn't remember much of anything that happened after breakfast yesterday, but he knew that it did. He could hear people shouting. It sounded like Jason, which wasn't a surprise. 'Usually, when someone starts screaming around here, it's Jason,' he thought as his muddled mind tried to comprehend what was being said, or better yet, shouted. It was then that he heard a woman's voice. 'Huh, that's weird. It's not Davis, or Ellis, so who is it?'

It was then that he opened his eyes to try to get some answers for himself. He was immediately met with the sight of Jason holding a woman against the wall by her neck. They were in quite a heated argument, by the looks of it. It took him a few minutes longer before he could actually make out what they were arguing about, and when he did, what he heard shocked him.

"So… you're saying he's going to be raped?" Trent asked. The question made him want to puke. A reaction to that made him sit up, and he realized that the entire team was facing away from him. He heard the woman -he would have to learn her name- explaining something, and Sonny's broken whisper. All of it was background noise to the scene playing inside his head.

_It was summertime, the year he turned thirteen, and his family was out having a picnic on the lake next to his house. His parents, his older brothers and his younger sister were playing in the water, and he was sitting on the shore eating a chocolate chip cookie. His uncle came up behind him and splashed some water on his head. He laughed it off, and went to grab his towel, hanging on a low tree branch a little ways away from the lake, hidden by the bushes so that they wouldn't get splashed. _

_What he hadn't known at the time was that his uncle had followed him over, and proceeded to tell him that he was a beautiful kid, and that he was just his type. He touched him, violated him, in ways that he was never quite able to shrug off. He'd had nightmares for months, so much so that his parents had insisted he see a therapist. When the truth finally came out, his uncle was arrested, and sent to jail. Brock never was allowed to see him again. _

Brock was snapped back to the present with an urgent question. He had to know. "Will they kill him?" he asked bluntly. He didn't mean to be blunt, but the enormous headache, coupled with the fear that he had for his little brother, made it hard to be anything else.

As the shock of seeing him awake wore off, and the conversation turned to another matter on the subject, and Brock's question got a brief answer, he sighed. Most of his fight let him quickly, and he didn't want to be awake anymore. Tensions were no doubt running high, and stress levels were at their overload point. So he slowly crawled his way over to Cerberus, needing to make sure his dog was okay after all the commotion. When he got there, he laid down against the wall, and, using Cerb as a pillow, drifted off to sleep again.

Clay P.O.V.

Clay wasn't in a whole lot of pain. I mean, sure, he was achy, sort of sore, but he didn't hurt all that much. He decided not to question it. Better to just count your blessings, and not look a gift horse in the mouth.

As he took stock of his surroundings, he heard the breathing of his brothers. That was a comfort to him, it meant that they were all still together. When the light kicked on, he tried to squint his eyes open, and when he failed to see anything, he just shut them. He heard rustling on all of his sides, could hear a male voice that he didn't recognize speaking Vietnamise. Then he heard what he assumed was the woman from earlier. She was telling him that she didn't have anything. He listened for a moment longer, and realized that she had told him that she didn't have any information. He didn't doubt it. Bravo would never give anybody anything if they thought for even a moment that they weren't trustworthy.

Suddenly, he was being picked up. He didn't know who it was, the hands that grabbed his appendages were rough with them, and he knew that Trent would never allow him to be handled that way. So, as a split second decision, he went weightless to make it harder for whoever it was. He suspected that it couldn't be anything good.

He was carried down a long hallway with more than a few twists and turns, he tried to keep track of where they were going, if the case should arise that he needed to know. Finally, they came to a heavy looking oak door, and when it was opened, the scent practically smacked him in the face. It smelled strongly of cologne and incense, and it blanketed his senses as he was hauled into the large room. He was laid none-to-gently down on a surprisingly soft bed. It was only when he felt a firm tapping against his cheek that he opened his eyes. He looked into the face of the man that he had glimpsed very briefly when they had all been captured. Then, the face started moving as the man started speaking.

"Tôi biết rằng bạn có thể hiểu tôi. Nó sẽ là tốt nhất cho bạn lắng nghe rất cẩn thận,(3)" the man said. While his brain felt a little muddled, he understood perfectly. Clay didn't know how this man knew that he spoke the language, but he was certain that it wouldn't be a good idea to argue.  
"Tôi không muốn nghe một âm thanh từ bạn. Hiểu không?(4)" the stranger asked. Clay decided to play it nice, figuring that he might make it out a little less scathed if he didn't bite back as he wanted to. Knowing this, he nodded his head very slightly.

The man smiled, and turned away from him as he made his way over to a small table. A couple of guards came towards him, and they roughly flipped him over, and started stripping him of his uniform. He tried to fight, but his brain registered the syringe being plunged into his neck, and a cold substance making it way to all of his extremities rather quickly. He lost his fight, and the guards finished their job, handcuffing his hands to the bedposts with rough, steel handcuffs. It was an odd feeling, he knew that much. While he could still feel everything, he could move nothing. Huh. He didn't really know what to make of the situation now that he could hardly concentrate.

He heard one of the guards that had stripped him call the man who had captured them all Nahmen. He supposed that was his name, it was better than making up a name for him in his head. The man by the name of Nahmen came back over to the bed, suddenly stark naked. The pieces began to click together in his mind, and he slammed his eyes closed. He didn't like this at all. Nahmen was right next to him, rubbing a rough hand up and down Clay's side, admiring the muscles and physique of his prize. Clay grimaced when the hand detoured, and rubbed softly across his left ass cheek. His head was yanked up from behind, and he was looking right into the face of Nahmen. He clutched something in his hands, though Clay couldn't yet see what it was. He started speaking, and Clay's mind was working double-time to try to translate it for him.

"Điều này sẽ không dễ chịu với bạn, nhưng nếu bạn cư xử, tôi sẽ đảm bảo nó không mất quá nhiều thời gian,(5)" he said softly, almost lovingly, as he began to clasp something around his head. Clay wanted to fight, knew he should fight, but he also knew that he wouldn't be able to. Not in this state.

Clay's eyes widened as he realized what was around his head. It was a muzzle! The bastard had muzzled him! It bit tightly into the skin around Clay's mouth, and it pulled at the hair around his ears. It even made his beard feel like it was being ripped out of his face. In the next couple of moments, his hips were pulled up off the soft covers, and something hard pressed against his ass. 'Oh, God. I'm gonna be raped. What if the guys find out?' was the last thought he had before pain seared through his ass.

It felt like ice and fire at the same time, pain that ripped it's way through his entire being with every heavy thrust. Tears that had filled his eyes moments ago now streamed down his face. Honestly, he wouldn't care about the looks he would get for crying in front of the enemy. He just wanted it to stop. An extra hard thrust made him gasp through the muzzle, and blackness tinged the edges of his vision. Yet, as much as he begged for it, sweet oblivion never came. He was made to live through the entire thing while completely aware, and the only thing that coursed its way through Clay's mind, was that he wanted Bravo to make all of this stop…

Trent P.O.V.

Bravo plus Jamie waited for hours for Nahmen's men to bring Clay back. They all sat around the small room in various states of sleep and wakefulness. Trent looked up at the window, their only method of telling time while locked away. Hours had passed, and it was nearing evening again. Jamie once again sat over near Ray, who was now awake and as worried as the rest of them about Clay after being filled in. Jamie had assured all of them that Nahmen's men had probably tranquilized Ray from behind, and that was how he got the drop on them. It made sense to Trent, and he figured that Jamie must have prior experience with people that Nahmen had captured.

Jason was angrily watching the door, as though he was willing it to burst open again. Trent knew Jason well enough to know that Jason's expression was the one he had when their team leader was looking for a fight. Sonny matched Jason nearly identically in facial expression, and that didn't surprise the medic either.

Brock was still laying on the ground with Cerberus, though both appeared to still be awake from the last time that Trent had woken Brock. He didn't want to take any chances with Brock's sure-fire concussion.

As though Jason's silent willing had worked, the door opened once again. Not quite as roughly this time, which only surprised Trent until he realized that the ones who had opened the door were the ones who were carrying Clay. Though he didn't see any sign of Nahmen this time, there were still two armed guards that held them all at gunpoint while the other two practically dropped Clay on the ground like a hot potato. They all immediately left, and when the door closed the lights remained on this time.

Everyone who could instantly rushed over to Clay, trying to assess the damage that had been done to the blond rookie. He was naked as the day he was born, which set in stone for Trent just what had been done to him. There was also quite a thick layer of blood covering the inside of Clay's thighs, and they all knew he was bound to be in pain for quite a while. He smiled sadly at the sight of Cerberus yanking his chain as far as it would go, trying his best to get to Clay. Trent didn't blame him, because he would be too.

He took silent stock of all of Clay's visible injuries, noting with disgust the muzzle on the younger man's face. It made him want to be sick, just looking at it. It was made entirely of metal, with at least four or five visible locks keeping it together. It would be a bitch to get off, that much was for sure. He was only a little startled to see Jamie already beginning to take care of some Clay's wounds, knowing that they were mostly on the inside, and he only possessed a few badly bruising hickies on his neck.

Trent was attempting to hand Jamie some more gauze when Clay's eyes snapped open. Sonny and Jason were both standing around him, and Brock was on the other side of him with Jamie, when all of Clay's limbs struck out at them. He was fumbly and uncoordinated, but determined to not let himself be hurt like that again, and it was visible in the way that he moved. Tears were in Clay's eyes, a bunch of them flowing freely down his face, and it broke all of their hearts to have to watch Clay in such distress.

"Hey, hey. It's us, alright, it's us," he told him, hoping that his voice would be enough to calm the young man down, and praying that he wouldn't have to use anymore names in front of Jamie. Jamie looked at him, and rolled her eyes, it seemed that she could read his thoughts, which scared him beyond belief. The look decided it for him, and he didn't think she was a spy anyways.  
"Clay, kid, you don't have to fight. You're back with us," Jason whispered in the kid's ear. It would seem that Jason had beat him to it. He took that as permission, and so he leaned into Clay's line of sight.

"What I'm going to do is going to hurt, Clay, but I need to do it so you don't get an infection." It was the only warning he could give the kid before he had to do what was necessary. "Could you guys hold him down?" he asked the team, and Jamie. When they all nodded and moved to different places to hold Clay down, he began what he hoped would be a short process.

He wet a piece of gauze with saline from a bottle in the bag that Jamie had, and snapping on a pair of latex gloves, moved closer to Clay again, noting everyone's expressions as he did so. Their hearts were in pieces watching their kid cry and whimper through the muzzle, trying to fight off a threat that was no longer there. "I'm sorry, kid," was the only apology he could offer as he swiftly inserted the gauze into his brother's backside, grimacing at the sound of the cry and making quick work of cleaning out all the blood and -he was angered to see- semen from his friend's body. While the entire ordeal only lasted a couple of minutes, it felt like hours to everyone who had to hold the young man down and keep him from hurting himself more.

Once it was over, Trent was relieved to find that Clay had passed out again. They all moved back and Jason, who actually dwarfed Clay by a few inches, pulled off his over shirt and slipped it onto the kid's smaller body. It hung down just far enough to give the kid back a small amount of his privacy, and he knew that Clay would be thankful for the thought. Trent picked him up and moved both himself and Clay over to the wall so that the kid wouldn't wake up alone. They all knew how that fiasco went.

It was about an hour before Clay actually woke up, his eyes fluttering open and a small whimper leaving his mouth as he tried to shift around. His eyes found Trent's and he relaxed a little bit knowing that he was no longer with Nahmen. Trent smiled sadly, and rubbed Clay's back as the kid nuzzled his head into Trent's side, seeking comfort after so much pain. Trent only wished that someone would find them, and soon, before this happened again.

Cerberus P.O.V.

His boy was hurt.

It didn't matter that his pack was human, they were still his boys, and one of them was hurt. Clay was curled up against Trent, the medic unconsciously rubbing his boy's back long after Clay had fallen asleep again.

Cerberus watched as all of Bravo, plus the girl they called Jamie jumped to their feet when gunshots were heard in the hallway outside their tiny room. Everyone except Trent, of course, unwilling to painfully jar Clay when he didn't think he'd need to. Cerberus approved of that notion.

Suddenly, the door banged open for what felt like the millionth time since they'd been there, but this time, the person standing in the doorway was Blackburn. Cerberus nearly howled with joy. They were saved, they were going home!

Eric P.O.V.

They'd worked tireless hours to find their team, and it had paid off after nearly forty-eight hours. Lisa had given him the coordinates, and he had been out the door, followed closely by Alpha team.

They had made it quickly to the compound where their guys were being held, breaching the doors and shooting everyone in sight. They needed Nahmen alive, but none of these bastards were him. When they didn't run across anymore hostiles, he sent half of Alpha to search for Nahmen, and he took the other half to search for Bravo.

When they finally came to a room that wasn't guarded, but had multiple deadbolts on the door, they were confidant that they finally had them. He shot the bolts right of the door, kicking it open with practiced ease. His eyes immediately fell on Jason, who was chained to the wall by his ankle. Jason held his eye contact for a moment or two, but looked down and then at Clay held in Trent's arms. The sight brought tears to Eric's eyes. He knew the implications of this particular situation, and knew that filling out the reports would not be a fun task.

They all made quick work of getting the chains off of two men and a dog, and then they were making their way outside again. The chopper that was waiting for them could only give them a blanket for Clay as they boarded. The time spent liberating them had seemed to fly by, but now, as they had nothing to do but sit and wait, it was slow going. Eric looked at all the men that he claimed under his command. They were all sitting in the cramped helo as the waited for it to be piloted back to their base. All of them, including himself were staring at their rookie, still grasped tightly in Trent's arms, watching him whimper and whine every time he moved. It was clear that he had been drugged, but they needed to get back to base and the team Doctor before they jumped to any conclusions.

Eric looked over at the girl they had all insisted be brought along. He had been told her name was Jamie River, and that she was from Wisconsin, but that was all anyone knew. He let it slide, knowing that as soon as everyone was out of the woods he would have Lisa checking her out.

This entire ideal was going to take a while to come back from, and he knew it. He wouldn't dream of separating Bravo team from their rookie while he was down and out. They would insist on sticking together, and he already knew that he would pull the strings to make that happen, no hesitation.

When they finally landed, Clay was whisked away from them with calm assurances that he would be just fine in the care of the base doctors. They allowed Trent to come with them, strictly because he knew what they were dealing with, and what drugs Clay might be allergic to. The rest of Bravo sat in the waiting room, waiting to hear news on their kid. When news finally came, it came by way of Trent telling them that they could all come see him.

They all made their way to Clay's room, knowing that it wouldn't be Clay's for long because they fully intended to break him out and take him back to Bravo's shared accommodations, to see how the kid had fared. Clay was asleep, looking small and vulnerable in the hospital bed, and when they all came close was when he finally woke up.

He looked at them all closely, as though trying to figure out if he was hallucinating, and when he finally figured out that they weren't, sighed in relief. He looked around, and when he spotted the muzzle where it lay discarded on a table, he freaked out. He flinched, and then he began to try to writhe his way out of the bed and as far away as he could get from the offending object. Jason caught him just before he fell out of the bed, repositioning him to be comfortable while Trent removed the muzzle from the room. Clay had a couple of tears running down his cheeks, and Jason gently wiped them away with his thumb as Sonny reached a hand to run it through Clay's hair. It broke them all to know that Clay was still stuck in his personal hell, and they didn't know how to help him.

The doctor entered the room at a slow pace, his eyes focused on the chart he held in his hands, but stopped when he saw the massive gathering in his patient's room. The six men, plus the dog, looked at him expectantly, hoping for some good news. He hoped to give them some.

"There was no sign of any infection inside him, so whoever cleaned him up initially after the fact did quite a good job. There was a large amount of chafing on the inside of his thighs, though it won't even be noticeable in a few days, if you use the prescribed lotion right." The doctor smiled at the astounded looks on the faces of the SEALs in front of him. "Yes, I am quite well aware that you intend to take him back to your own accommodations. All I ask is that you be careful with him when you do."

Sonny scoffed. "As though we would be anything else."

"As I was saying, the chafing should clear up in a few days. That about sums up the physical injuries, but the psychological problems will be a different matter entirely. Depending on how he reacts and recovers, the need may arise that he needs to be discharged from the Navy." He held up a hand to stop the oncoming verbal assault. "I'm not saying that a discharge is the only option here, merely one that may have to be looked at if he goes downhill at a later date. Now, I know how you Navy men are about your pride, so I'll attempt to keep this short. You may have to put some if not all of your physical and emotional aversions aside, because he will need a great deal of help if he's going to come back from this. He may fight it at first, but you will need to hold firm in keeping him close for a little while. For lack of better terminology, you will need to provide him a safe, loving environment to recover in. It will be the only way that he makes it back from this enough to be an operator again." With nothing left to tell them, he maneuvered around the SEALs to check on his patient.

Eric corralled the men around him out into the hallway, knowing that the doctor would need room for a moment to check on Clay. The doctor's words still rang clear in his ears, and he was already mentally filling out the paperwork to take Bravo out of rotation for a while. Eric wasn't a fool, he knew that the rest of the team would still have their minds on Clay no matter where they were, and that could be dangerous, even fatal.

His phone beeped, signaling that he had received a text message, and when he pulled his phone out of his pocket, he saw that it was from Lisa. 'Facts are clear on Jamie River. Her relatives in Wisconsin just identified her. She's being debriefed so that she can go home.' In just three short sentences, he was given one less thing to worry about. He looked up when the doctor exited the room, giving them all a brief smile as he turned and walked down the hallway.

The men of Bravo hurried back into the room, wanting to get Clay out of there as soon as possible. They all realized that he had been detached from all the I.V.s and machines, ready for them to take him when they wished. A wheelchair was in the corner of the room, and so they set about gathering all of Clay's belongings, getting him settled, and exiting the base infirmary.

It took them a hot minute, but they got Clay back to the small area that Bravo had claimed as theirs the moment they had arrived. When Clay was arranged on the couch, with Cerberus standing guard to make sure that he was okay, the rest of them stepped aside to have a quiet meeting.

"How we gonna do this? In shifts?" Sonny asked. They looked back over at Clay, seeing that he was awake and running his fingers softly through Cerb's fur.

"I think we should all be with him tonight. This is gonna take some getting used to, but he's gonna need us. All of us," was Jason's answer. They knew it. They were all thinking the same thing. Eric watched as they all simultaneously nodded, and made their way back over to the couch. He smiled softly, wondering how he ever ended up with such a hard-headed but soft-hearted team to command. He quietly exited the small building that made up Bravo's barracks, and walked swiftly over to the command center. He had a boat load of paperwork to do.

Jason P.O.V.

Jason opened the door to the barracks, silently stepping out into the early morning. The night had been made up of taking care of Clay, while also attempting to take care of themselves. All of the members of his team were finally asleep within the building, the past couple of days taking their toll on them all. His mind replayed the last few hours on repeat.

It had started with Clay being uneasy when they came near him. Remembering the doctor's words, they had all continued to keep close to him, even though they knew he didn't like it. When Ray finally plucked up enough courage to ask, the question was sort of mute.

"How do you feel, Clay?" he had asked. Clay looked up from Cerberus with some new tears shining in his eyes. That was all that needed to be said, or better yet, left unsaid. Jason, who was sitting beside Clay on the couch when he had asked to sit up, pulled him into a tight hug, Clay beginning to cry into his shoulder. It was something that they weren't used to, their strong, cocky, arrogant rookie displaying such vulnerability in front of them. They had all joined the hug one by one, all of them wanting to show support to their kid. When a broken sob was heard, none of them understood what was said.

"What was that, Clay?" Trent had asked. Trent was usually the only one who could speak Clay-mumble, but it would seem that when it was muffled by Jason's shoulder, no one could translate it. Clay pulled his head back just enough to make himself understood this time.  
"I… I, uh… I didn't want you guys to… to find out. I didn't… I didn't want you guys to laugh at… laugh at me," was what came out in a scared little whisper. If nothing else about the situation shocked Bravo, it was that small statement. It was realized immediately that Clay was embarrassed by the situation, though he should have known by now that none of them would ever even _think_ about ridiculing him for this. It was Jason himself that took the initiative of his dumbstruck teammates.

"Never, Clay. We would never." And that was all that had to be said for Clay to tuck his head back down into the crook of Jason's arm. The entirety of Bravo was piled on the couch, all of them wrapped around one another in the hopes of giving Clay some comfort, some solidarity.

They had all rested like that for the rest of the night, barely moving at all when Lisa quietly made her way in, took one look at Bravo team curled up like a bunch of cats around their kid, and turned around to walk right back out again. No way was she disturbing that adorable scene. Though she did come back a few minutes later with a camera, snapping some pictures of the cuteness.

Jason, as he stood on the porch of their barracks, looked back on all of this with reverence. Helping Clay would be a pain in the ass, but they were all more than willing to do so. He started off through the compound of the base, with one thought in his mind.

'I'm gonna find that muzzle, and then I'm gonna find me a Vietnamese douche. He's not gonna like it when I put it on him like he thought it would be a good idea to put it on our kid.'

The End

So, what did y'all think. I know, I know, I was pretty mean to Clay in this one, but I feel like the team fluff was worth it. Drop a review and tell me what you think.

Translations:

(1) What did you find?

(2) The won't speak to me. Won't even tell me their names.

(3) I know you can understand. It will be best for you to listen carefully.

(4) I don't want you to make a sound. Do you understand?

(5) This will not be pleasant for you, but if you behave, it won't take too much time.


	2. Chapter 2

Alright, well, I think it was pretty obvious that I was planning on this story being a one-shot. However, as y'all can see, it didn't happen that way. My muse wouldn't hush, and I couldn't keep my story ideas away from my computer.

The warnings for this chapter are lighter than the one before it, only because the worst is over. Really only flashbacks from here on out. Also, keeping the warning for swearing in there, because the term "cursing like sailors" had to come from somewhere, and where better than actual sailors?

Disclaimer, because I forgot it in the first one: I don't own them, no matter how much I wish I did. All mistakes are my own, as this isn't beta'd.

Enough… Ch. 2

The gentle sway of Clay's hammock was lulling him just under the blanket of sleep, muddling his brain and making it hard for him to think. He knew that it was late, or early, depending on how you were looking at it. They were on the C-17 going back to the States after a longer than expected spin-up in Vietnam. He supposed that was mostly his fault, though the guys had told him that he wasn't allowed to think like that. He sighed, squeezing his eyelids together. He didn't want to think about that. He heard shuffling to his right, and he huffed. Here we go again.

"Clay, you alright?" Brock asked. Clay sluggishly opened one eye and turned it in the direction of the dog handler. They had all been keeping a close eye on him for the last couple of days, and he appreciated it, he really did, but he didn't want them to worry about him. He knew they would. It was inevitable, after what happened, even he knew that. He just… He… Well, he didn't know how to explain it. It was making him uneasy.

"I'm fine, Brock," he answered. He closed his eyes again, hoping that his short answer would be enough for his teammate, but when Reynolds only sat down on a crate near his hammock, he knew he wouldn't be allowed to go back to sleep again any time soon. They both sat in tense silence for a few minutes, and Clay took this time to take stock of what had gone on while he had been sacked out.

It was obvious that they were some of the few that were still awake, the rest of the team resting in their own hammocks not far from them. Clay wondered why Brock wasn't asleep as well, but knew that he would likely find out soon anyways. When the silence became deafening and Clay felt like he wouldn't be able to take much more of it, Brock spoke up.

"Are you feeling okay, Clay?" he asked quietly. Clay let a ghost of a smile cross his features.

"Brock, you already asked me that," he reminded him. Brock started to smile too, and the air didn't feel so tense anymore. Cerberus padded over from his kennel beside Brock's hammock, which they didn't usually make him stay in, but they kept open in case he decided he wanted to go somewhere to get away from the noise for a minute. He sat patiently at the foot of Clay's hammock, looking at Brock with those soulful eyes that no one could say no to. In turn, Brock looked at Clay, who nodded his consent, and Brock smiled at Cerb who jumped quickly into Clay's hammock. He swiftly found his favorite spot laying atop Clay's chest, and went to sleep with the feel of his boy's fingers in his fur. Clay kept his attention trained on Cerberus for a few minutes, until Brock broke the silence again.

"Clay, do you… do you want to talk about it?" he asked tentatively. Clay just barely kept his head from snapping up to look at Brock in astonishment. No, he really didn't want to talk about it. He'd made that clear over the past couple of days. The doctor's words had played on repeat in his head though, and he was all mixed up.

"No," he answered honestly. He tried to keep his voice firm, so that Brock wouldn't try to argue a point with him, but it came out as a whisper, a broken whisper. He seemed to be full of those these days.

"Are you sure?" Brock pushed. Clay looked at him, and all of the terminology that his doctor had used to describe the possible psychological conditions that could crop up if he didn't seek and accept help started to play in a loop in his head.

"No," he whispered. He transferred his full attention to Cerberus, burying his nose in the soft fur around the pup's neck. Cerb hummed in affection, and reached around to lick his cheek, which made Clay smile.

Unnoticed by Clay, Brock was smiling too. The past couple of days had been rough on all of them, having to watch their kid in pain, both physically and emotionally, and to see him finally smiling, even if only a little bit, it made the situation a little bit better.

"It's hard, ya know." Brock wouldn't have heard him if they hadn't all been well versed in how to speak what had been dubbed 'Clay mumble'. He sort of understood where he was coming from, too. He hadn't been in the exact same position, but his had been similar, and that's why he'd volunteered himself to talk to Clay.

"Yeah, it is," he agreed. He wanted to let Clay do the talking, and not try to force anything the younger man would be uncomfortable with. It's what he would want anyone to do for him. When Clay looked up at him from Cerberus, there were tears shining in his eyes. Brock briefly entertained the idea of waking Jason or Sonny to comfort the kid, either of them being better at it than he was, but he had nieces and nephews, and he decided that he could figure it out.

"I try to go to sleep, but every time I close my eyes, all I can see is… is… him," Clay croaked out. Brock tried not to cringe in sympathy. Their little brother needed them to be strong for him right now, but hearing his inner turmoil, made Brock angry. Not at Clay, never at Clay, but at Nahmen, for all the shit that they had put their boy through. Clay let out a heavy sigh, and he drug the sleeve of his shirt across his face. "Sorry," he mumbled.

The apology caught Brock off guard. Over the past couple of days, they had tried to make it abundantly clear to Clay that this was by no means his fault, and that nobody blamed him, and they weren't going to let him blame himself. And, while they also knew that he was a generally closed off person, and didn't often like the idea of sharing his feelings, he had agreed to try let his team help him through this. He stood slightly, picking up the crate he was sitting on and dragging it behind him as he pulled it and himself closer to Clay.

"Clay, I'm only going to say this once, so you better be listening," he said as he sat down in Clay's direct line of sight. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing about this situation is your fault, and none of us are going to let you suffer alone. You are not alone. Not now, not ever."

Brock Reynolds never thought he would see the day where Clay Spenser, second generation SEAL, son of Ash Spenser, a badass with a heart of gold, look at him with such vulnerability in his eyes and tears streaming down his cheeks. Sure, there had been occasions when he'd found Sonny in a bar after a particularly bad talk with his mom, and there had been that one really bad time when they had stumbled upon a heated confrontation between Clay and his father, when the younger Spenser had been rather defensive, saying something that Ash didn't like which resulted in Clay receiving a few blows to the face before the the retired SEAL could be pulled off him.(1) Jason had taken care of him then. All in all, Brock didn't think Clay saw him as someone to go to when he was feeling vulnerable, but maybe that could change.

He closed the rest of the distance between them, casing Clay in a hug so tight that they practically crushed Cerberus between them. When the pup didn't make any attempt to move, Brock didn't push the issue. Clay had his head tucked into the crook of Brock's neck, much in the same way his nieces and nephews liked to position themselves when he held them. Tears were soaking the neckline of his shirt, but Brock couldn't care less. He felt like maybe he had finally made some progress. Sure, a small step in a marathon, but a step in the right direction nonetheless.

Clay didn't move for a few minutes, his exhausted mind telling him that he was safe, why leave? Eventually though, he pulled his head away from Brock's shoulder, and looked his friend in the eye. "What am I gonna do?" he asked quietly. He watched as Brock sat back down on the crate, finished for now with their small show of brotherhood.

The older SEAL didn't need to be a genius to know what he was talking about. They had all been present when the doctor had told them about where Clay could end up if there was no fix for his emotional state. While he was certain that there was absolutely no way that any of them were going to allow that to happen, Brock didn't want his friend to be a shell of his former self, either.

"You're gonna let us help you. We're not going anywhere, Clay. We're gonna be here, you just have to let us in," Brock answered. He wanted so badly to bring Clay back from this, and if that took all of them putting their own emotional aversions aside, then so be it. Clay Spenser would operate again, he was sure of it.

For a couple of minutes, they lapsed back into silence, both comfortable in the other's presence. Brock watched in slight amusement as Clay's eyelids started to droop, proving that their conversation had indeed worn him out. As he snuggled deeper into the hammock, using Cerberus as a blanket, Brock stood from the crate. He eyed his dog on the way past. He knew that Cerb would keep the nightmares at bay. When he thought he had made his escape, he heard a quiet voice call out to him. "Thanks, Brock," Clay mumbled sleepily.

On the way back over to his own hammock, Brock grinned to himself. He had no doubt that there would be more to Clay's recovery, but at least he thought he had managed to get through to the younger man. They were going to get him through this, and it didn't matter what was thought of them afterwards.

They were doorkickers, not shrinks, but even then, they knew Clay better than any doctor ever could. This was their kid they were talking about, and he would be back with them, kicking ass before they knew it. Brock could only hope that it would be enough.

* * *

Well, that ending sort of created itself, because it wasn't even the ending that I had planned for this story. However, I'm impressed with it, and I hope it flows into the story like I think it does.

(1) This is really just foreshadowing for a story that is currently in the works, revealing what I think the backstory was between Clay and his parents. I've seen a couple different versions, and I wanted in on the action.

Thanks for reading, and I take constructive criticism of all forms, so drop a review if there's something that I missed or that I could do better. :)


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